Ruthless Reign

Chapter 16

I didn’t get there in time to save him.

Thebullet tore through Kaleb so fast I only caught the faint spray of red exiting his back before he slumped over, his eyes rolling back.

“Kaleb,” Ma wailed, shoving Zade’s hands off her as she limped on her shattered knee until she dropped next to him, pulling his limp body onto her lap, pressing her hands uselessly against the well of thick crimson flowing from his chest. “My boy!”

Icouldn’t move.

Couldn’tthink.

Kaleb.

Dadsobbed into the dirt.

Popehad his hands on either side of his head, staring down at Kaleb’s pale form like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Like he might be sick.

BecauseKaleb…

Mylittle brother…

“No.”

Distantly, I heard my own voice.

Ishook my head.

“No.”

Nothim.

Hedidn’t…

Hewasn’t…

Hewas.

Ididn’t remember taking the switchblade from my pocket, but there it was in my hand, the tactile response of the blade flicking out like a cut string, setting me loose.

Isaw nothing but red. Red and black and rage as the shriveled thing in my chest broke. It was pain. Not physical. The other kind. The kind I thought I’d almost forgotten the feel of. I bellowed into the desert, my throat raw from the abuse of forcing such a loud sound from lungs that’d only tolerated silence for so long.

Mymuscles ached, burning as they filled with the acid of adrenaline.

Theraw, broken sound echoed back to us and there was blood on my blade.

Bloodon my hands.

Hot, but quickly cooling as I swung again.

Again.

Theresounding bang of a gunshot slapped me, bringing me back from that dark place long enough to see. Reallysee.

Theyshot me.

No.

No, there was no wound.

“Fuck, Jack!” Zade called and I spun on my heel, finding the corpse of an Irishman at my feet, an angry slash in his neck. Looking up, I saw where Zade knelt over the corpse of JackGreen. But the bullet hole in his temple and the vacancy in his eyes told me he was already long gone.

“Stop!” Dad shouted, his voice pleading in a way that made me sick to hear it. I’d never heard him sound that way. Not ever. And whatever pieces of me remained unbroken shattered at the sound. “Stop this!”

Ahammer cocked back, and when I looked back, I found no less than seven guns aimed at my head.

Buttheirs weren’t what bothered me. What bothered me was where SéamasO’Sullivan had his pointed.

Directlyat my Ma, who sobbed quietly over Kaleb in her lap.

Hiseyes were trained on me, but I knew his aim would stay true. “I can do this all day, son,” he taunted. “Put away the blade. It’s done.”

Awave of barely restrained fury rolled up my spine and I bristled at the effort of tempering it.

“You’re a fuckin’ dead man,” I told him, pointing my bloody blade at his face before bringing it to my mouth, licking off the blood to spit it in his direction. A threat. A promise.

Hisson stared at me like he was seeing me for the first time. Aodhán. Séamas’ son. The one who shot Kaleb. I’d take him slow. Make it hurt. They were all dead men walking, they just didn’t know it yet.

“Not today,” Séamas said, inclining his head behind me, to the horror I couldn’t bring myself to look at again. “Tonight it was your brother’s turn to meet his maker. I’m afraid I’ve made a deal with mine and he won’t take me until I’m through.”

Myeyes stung and I blinked, curling in on myself as his words sobered my wrath enough to bring the anguish into stark, brutal clarity.

Séamaswhistled. “Pack it up, boys!”

Asthe two Irishmen let my father up, he thrashed to get their hands off him, racing to Kaleb on the ground.

“Same time next month, Damien. No tricks or next time I won’t be so merciful.” I doubted Séamas’ words made it to my father’s ears as he dropped to his knees opposite Ma in the red-stained dirt. Ma, who was rocking Kaleb like he was still two years old. Ma, who had a dead look in her eyes. Ma, who was humming something that prickled at the furthest parts of my memory.

Alullaby she would sing to us to block out the sounds of our father trashing the house just outside our closed bedroom door.

“Sloane,” Dad croaked. “Sloane, let go. Let go, baby. I got him.”

“No. No, don’t touch him!”

Distantly, I heard vehicles retreating. Their headlights, left on for the meet, gone with them, plunging us all into darkness.

“Where was his vest?” Dad was shouting. “Hardin. Hardin why the fuck wasn’t he wearing a vest?”

Ifelt my own chest, bare beneath the thin fabric of my t-shirt.

…because I wasn’t?

BecauseI never did.

Andhe’s my little brother.

Iwanted to claw out my own heart. Give it to him to replace the one they broke.

Atortured, ragged breath stole all the air from the desert and suddenly I was there, beside my little brother as his eyes rolled open and he coughed, choking on the blood in his mouth.

Ishoved Dad out of the way. “Get the fucking car.”

Islapped Kaleb’s cheek, bringing him around.

“Kaleb,” I growled. “Kaleb, hey, look at me. Fucking look at me.”

Mahad her red hands covering her mouth and I growled at her to keep pressure on the wound and I knew she was back. Whatever black hole she’d chucked herself into spit her back out as she knelt on her shattered knee and pushed hard into Kaleb’s chest.

“Fuck,” he cursed as she staunched the flow of blood.

Theroar of an engine met my ears, and I snarled at Pope to get the fuck out of the way as I lifted him.

Kalebgroaned through clenched teeth as I hefted him up and muscled him to Dad’s car. Ma was there, sliding into the back seat on the other side, waiting for him. I lifted him onto her knees, and she hissed, but the only words that fell from her lips were reassurances to Kaleb as she took the shirt I ripped from my back and pushed it to his wound again.

“Drive,” I snarled as I got in, kicking Dad’s seat forward to make room as I dragged Kaleb’s knees onto my legs.

Thetires peeled, kicking up dirt as my door shut.

Iprodded at Kaleb’s back, recalling in the riot of inconsistent thoughts in my skull that the bullet went through.

“What are you doing?” Ma snapped at me as Kaleb made sounds of discomfort with every prod of my fingers.

“It went through.”

Ifound the exit wound and adjusted Kaleb so that it was pressed directly against Ma’s thigh, giving pressure from both sides.

“There’s an exit wound?” Dad asked from the front seat, jostling the car as he drove it from the dirt onto the road.

“It didn’t hit his heart. You hear that, baby?” Her grip on Kaleb tightened. “It didn’t hit your heart. You’re fine. You’re going to be fine.”

Asif in direct contradiction to her words, Kaleb coughed and crimson splattered over his lips.

Hiseyes went unfocused.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” I snarled, taking over keeping pressure on the wound for Ma, pushing harder, rousing him. “Wake the fuck up, Brother. You aren’t finished y-y-yet.”

Hewas back only for a few seconds before he dropped. I felt the exact moment he let go, the weight of him sagging on my legs as his eyes shuttered.

Matried to push on his chest, cursing, but I stopped her. She was only going to make his wounds bleed more and if he bled any more…

Iwasn’t sure how he lost so much blood and was still alive in the first place.

Ifelt for his pulse under his jaw, finding it there, weak.

Islapped him.

Maslapped him.

Nothing.

“Hardin,” she pleaded, as if from sheer force of will I could save him. As if I should know what the fuck to do.

ButKaleb was the one. Hewas the one who stayed calm in shitty situations. He was the one who would know what to do. Not me.

Hispulse fluttered against my fingers so lightly I wasn’t sure if what I was feeling was the ghost of it.

Whatwould Kaleb do?

Besmart.

Besmart.

CPRcould make him bleed out. But if his pulse stopped then we’d have no choice but to risk it.

“Ma, shut the fuck up.”

Icouldn’t focus on his pulse through her endless cursing and shouting.

Thecabin went quiet. The only sounds that accompanied the rest of the ride to the hospital were my own heartbeats in my ears and the blaring of car horns as we sped through every red light in SantaClarita.

Iclosed my eyes, feeling every slow, weak, jagged beat of his heart.

Flashinglights painted the backs of my eyelids.

Thecar stopped.

…and his pulse.

Wheredid it go?

Ilost it. I lost it.

Hands. There were hands grabbing him, pulling him.

Awoman screamed as I pulled my switchblade only for Dad to disarm me. “They need to take him,” he was saying. “Let them take him, Son.”

Iwatched the emergency staff pull Kaleb onto a stretcher and cart him away. Watched him vanish between a set of double metal doors, not even recalling leaving the car and entering the building.

Dadpulled Ma into his chest and held her tight, whispering into her hair.

“They’re going to save him,” Dad told her. “They have to.”

Ifthey didn’t, I might shoot the surgeon.

“We need a doctor over here,” Dad commanded, pulling Ma to a bank of low seats near a vacant nurse’s window, sitting her down as a short man in a white jacket rushed over with a nurse to examine Ma’s knee.

“Grab a wheelchair,” the doc told the nurse, but Dad just stood and scooped Ma up in his arms like she weighed nothing, his expression bleak. “Where do you want her?”

“Uh, just, uh, down the hall, follow the blue line to surgery,” the doc babbled, rushing to catch up with my Dad as he carried Ma to be tended to.

“No. I want to be with Kaleb. I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine, Sloane. And you know you can’t go into surgery. Even if you were the fucking Pope they would lock your ass out.”

“But—”

“I know, baby. I know.”

Theyleft and I realized there were at least a half a dozen sets of terrified eyes watching us from the waiting area, all of them standing awkwardly together in a huddle as far away from me as they could get.

Ileft the waiting area, shoving the automatic door out of the way when it was too slow to open. I breathed deep as cool night air washed over my face.

They’llsave him.

Kalebis a Saint and Saints don’t die easy.

Hewould be fine because I didn’t want to imagine the possibility that he might not be. I got a taste of it out in the canyons and I didn’t ever want to swallow that shit again.

Becca.

Fuck. I needed to make sure she was still with the Crows. What if…

Ifumbled my phone from my pocket, remembering.

“Have you met my son, Aodhán?”

Aodhán.

Thename had been so familiar.

BecauseI’d seen it before. OnBecca’s phone.

Thatnight after the PrimalEthos concert when I tucked her into bed and plugged in her phone, it’d been there. A message from Aodhán.

Itcouldn’t be a coincidence.

Myface heated as I thumbed into my contacts and found her name, tapping on it as a numbness filtered into my veins.

Sheanswered on the first ring. “Hello? Hardin? Is it over? Are you okay?”

Mystomach turned.

“Did you know?” I managed through the sharp ache in my throat.

Deadair on the other end. “DidI know what?”

“Who the fuck is Aodhán, Becca?”

“Hardin, what happened?”

“Who. Is. He?”

Asoft sob on the other end, the sound of it made my fists curl.

“Becca.”

“He’sSéamas’ son,” she blurted, her voice frantic. Broken. “ButI swear I didn’t know. Not until today and I was going to tell you but?—”

“He shot Kaleb.”

Shegasped, as if she had any right to be surprised. She knew. MyHawk. She fucking knew about this guy and she didn’t tell us. How long had she been talking to him? Why?

Fuckingwhy?

Iwanted to believe her. Wanted it so badly it hurt. Maybe she didn’t know until today. Maybe this guy meant nothing to her. Maybe she wasn’t working with the enemy.

Andmaybe pigs could fucking fly.

“What do you mean?” she asked, and I could hear the desperation in her watery voice. It sounded so real. “IsKaleb…is he okay?”

“I don’t kn-kn-know.”

Fuck.

Iwiped a palm over my mouth, taking in a tattered breath.

“It’s my fault,” she croaked. “This is my fault. He said—he said something was wrong.” She sniffed, and I felt fire under my skin. “I just thought he meant?—”

“Who?”

“What?”

“Whosaid?”

Iswear to fuck if she says his name…

“Aodhán.”

Myphone shattered against the brick exterior of the hospital, splintering into a thousand tiny useless pieces.

“Hardin?”

Pope’swary voice met my ears and I looked down the sidewalk to find him and Zade hustling to the entrance. “IsKaleb okay? Where’sDamien? We need orders. Everyone is standing by.”

“Find the son,” I growled the order and neither man balked that it came directly from me. “I want his fucking head.”